Of Swords and Dragons
by Invisible Hunter
Summary: Wyatt wakes up one day to find Excalibur missing.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own them

((---))

Wyatt woke up to an idea that consuming some unknown kind of an alcoholic drink, offered by friendly dwarves in way too generous qualities, might not be a really good idea at all. Oh, not at all, he eventually decided, groaning and burying his throbbing head deeper into a pillow.

What little he remembered of the previous night gave him the opportunity to come to a complete, confident conclusion that little bearded buggers, taking a polite decline to have another glass of an unknown substance they called wine as a grave personal insult to their immense ego, were evil. More evil than any evil he came to know in his life as a witch and worse than any demons he had to face during that time, because none of them could make him suffer so much in the aftermath of his own birthday.

Wyatt groaned again, lifting his hand to summon a savior. His Mom wouldn't approve of such trivial use of magic, he knew, but he just couldn't bring himself to care. His concentration wasn't as sound as his wish, however, because a small bottle of an unidentified liquid hit him square in the brow instead of landing accurately on the bed table nearby.

Wyatt knew he shouldn't have done it. He knew it all too well, both out of numerous times he was said so and out of personal experience… Yet a moment of weakness left him doing it.

Rubbing a throbbing temple and swallowing the content of the bottle in one huge gulp, he thought, somewhat resignedly: 'Can this day get any worse?'

(---)

Wyatt entered the attic to a sound of loud crash resonating from the walls and right into the witch's ears, echoing painfully in his skull. Wincing and bringing his palms to reflexively cover the abused part of the body, he paused in his steps, as the look of understandable irritation turned into one of complete bewilderment at the picture of his younger brother recklessly shifting the small bottles on the shelf of an opened cupboard, the one used to keep the potions that took long to be made or had some rare, hard-to-find ingredients in them. _Just in case_, Piper said, locking them away under a key and a reliable spell. _Just in case_.

Chris's sneaking abilities – the ones he no doubt used to make up for his lack of power in comparison to Wyatt and a subtle inferiority complex formed of it – never ceased to amaze his elder brother.

"Chris? – Wyatt's unexpected voice from behind nearly sent the dark-haired boy toppling over the mess under his feet, but he regained his balance with all the dignity he could master in a situation like that. – Where's Mom?"

Chris knew his brother well enough to identify the unsaid '_what do you think you are doing?_' and _'you are in sooo big trouble, baby brother'_.

There was a short nervous laugh, then "She's in the club having fun with Dad, Aunt Phoebe and Aunt Paige… They won't come back until the very evening…"

'…_Don't tell them'_.

There was a long silence as Chris turned away to continue his rummaging on the shelf and Wyatt made his way through the mess on the floor to approach him. He paused when he noticed a circle of not yet lit candles in the centre of the attic and opened his mouth to ask Chris what that was about when a younger boy yelled out in triumph: "Found it!"

Wyatt's face had an expression of a confused frown on it as he regarded a bottle of ice blue liquid his brother was clutching in his hand. He sighed and rubbed his aching temple as the bottle travelled through the air to finally firmly position itself in the elder witch's palm, accompanied by the indignant noise the younger one made.

"Now explain me what this is all about."

The green-eyed look that followed was the one of genuine surprise, as well as the question asked:

"You don't remember?"

Oh. This. Was. Not. Good. No, definitely not.

Chris eyed him carefully, dark-green pools full of suspicious disbelief.

Wyatt knew he would regret it, he undoubtedly did.

"What should I remember?"

((---))

Wyatt groaned quietly and buried his face into his palms.

"I can't believe I said this!'

Yet his half-dead, but still living memory helpfully provided him with the scene of a giggling blushing she-dwarf as he, Wyatt Halliwell, was paying compliments to her… no, he _really_ didn't want to remember this!..

"You did," - Chris had to resist the urge of bursting into laughter right then and there, but his green eyes were sparkling with merriment he didn't even bother to conceal. _He really is enjoying this_, Wyatt thought vengefully. _I'm a good guy now, I should not kill my brother, I should NOT kill my brother, I should NOT__…_

"…And then you stuck Excalibur back into the stone, because the dwarves said it'd been unfair they didn't have a try to pull it out, and you wanted to give them a chance to…"

Wyatt just stared, mouth agape:

"I did _WHAT?!..._"

"...try, but they were kind of losers… They even tried to break a stone with a hammer, but it's quite a tough stone, so after disposing of the remnants of a dozen irreparably broken hammers they just continued pulling at Excalibur and jerking and twisting it… But after a few hours it didn't even budge and you said that they failed and teleported it away… You both were good by that time…"

Wyatt involuntarily searched the attic with his eyes to find the stone – not an easy one to hide – but to his utter astonishment found none, not even a trace of it. His still fuzzy, but already-starting-to-clear mind needed some time to make a proper connection, and he asked carefully:

"Chris?.. Where did I teleport it?.."

"That is the problem, - a cheerful younger brother replied way too happily. Wyatt couldn't help but think that he was relishing in the moment his impeccable elder brother finally made a fool of himself. – We don't know."

Wyatt has never felt like banging his head on the wall more in his entire life. Even despite the fact his head was still throbbing, but less painfully by now. Thank great Merlin for small pleasures.

"Don't worry, - was that sound snickering? – Nobody knows but the two of us. I will not give away your secret."

…He was never drinking the dwarf stuff again.

((---))

"So are we going to summon it?" Wyatt lifted his eyes from the circle on the floor to his younger brother, who was sitting cross-legged on the couch and scribbling a spell in his notebook.

"Well, yes, basically," - Chris tore the sheet out of the notebook and handed it to his brother to inspect. Wyatt looked it through and nodded:

"This might work."

Chris barely kept himself from putting out his tongue and instead nodded in a dignified manner, rising to stand near Wyatt in front of the circle of lit candles.

Ancient power, born and gained

When the dragon's fire burst,

Bright as sunlight's golden flame,

Bring to us back what was lost!

The white summon flames in the middle of the circle had a distinct shade of gold. The two witches sighed in relief.

It was short-lived.

Instead of an enchanted stone with a magical sword in it, in the middle of the circle stood a thin dark-haired boy dressed in the manner of ancient England, his back turned to the brothers.

Distinctly they heard him mutter:

"Oh no, not again… Arthur's definitely going to take up his habit of putting me in the stocks once more… Well, maybe not, maybe he's just going to say something like '_Mer_lin, you are a wonder in your idiocy, - his voice oddly emphasized the first syllable, - only you can get lost in the familiar forest this close to Camelot…'"

The boy suddenly stopped and looked around, turning cautiously to look at the two Halliwells, slowly understanding that something was wrong here. His eyes were the darkest blue hue they've ever seen, but for a short moment they seemed to flash golden.

"Who are you? - He asked, his voice hostile and suspicious, with an odd shade of inappropriate curiosity barely noticeable in it.

Yep, something was definitely wrong in here.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I'm glad you're enjoying the story.**

**I thought it would be good to clear up Wyatt and Chris's age: Wyatt has turned 21, hence the reason the dwarves were so stubborn about the stuff they fed him – it was the first opportunity for them to do so. His birthday is also a big event in the magic world, considering the fact that he is the chosen one and was coming out of age, so the number of guests, both invited and uninvited, went way over the top.**

**Chris is, respectively, 19 years old.**

**Now on with the story!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately**

For about a long moment or two they just stared at each other, the three of them equally shocked and astonished, two pairs of somewhat horrified eyes bearing in something akin to fascination into the wary, uncomprehending and curious ones. Chris was the first to snap out of it, abruptly turning to Wyatt and yelling out indignantly:

"What have you done?!.."

Wyatt was instantly defensive, wheeling on his heels to face his brother and crossing his arms in a defiant gesture:

"What do you mean me? It was you who wrote the spell!.."

"It was you who lost the sword in the first place!.."

Both missed the moment the boy decided it was no time to appreciate the situation but to make a run for it, probably concluding it was an evil plot conceived by his numerous evil enemies. However, a quick movement in the corner of their vision caught their attention, and the two witches turned their heads just in time to see the back of the blue jacket bolt out of the door.

"Oh no, wait!" – Chris yelled out, his voice desperate, as they followed hastily, stumbling, in the rush forgetting, as usual, about their inborn ability to teleport…

The sound of something tumbling down the stairs made the two of them freeze mid step for a second and exchange terrified, as well as disbelieving, glances. Then they simultaneously darted forward, their paces twice as quick as before.

(---

"You've killed him, – Chris muttered, darkly. – You've killed Merlin."

"Hey, it was your spell! And it wasn't me who pushed him down the stairs, - Wyatt replied, reasonably, then fixed a pondering gaze on the prone figure lying unmoving on the sofa, eyeing it thoughtfully. – Besides, he's not dead. Just… out of sorts."

Both were silent for a moment, staring, then Wyatt eventually voiced it, his tone obviously doubtful:

"Are you sure it is _the_ Merlin? He… doesn't look like one."

Chris shook his head in wonder, his thoughts straying the same way. Wyatt's phrase didn't even _begin_ to describe it.

Yet, he had to be reasonable about it, so instead of agreeing he said:

"Well, he _did_ mention Arthur and Camelot. Do you know many Merlins who were on familiar terms with Arthur and resided in Camelot?"

"Besides, - he added after a short pause, resisting the urge to pull onto his hair – it would mess up his haircut… - Besides, if he hadn't been _the_ Merlin, the spell most likely wouldn't have sent him here in the first place."

This Wyatt couldn't argue with, no matter how much he wished to. The horror of the situation began to slowly dawn on him, and he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and falling listlessly onto the armchair. Mom would be _so_ happy…

"So… - Chris didn't even look in his direction, not needing to see his brother's reaction to know what it was like. – What shall we do now?"

"Well, that's pretty simple, isn't it? – Wyatt said, forcing himself to snap out of his depression and think rationally. – We wait until he wakes up, give him an amnesia potion and send him back."

"Why don't we send him back now? He would probably think it was a dream or something."

"Because, - Wyatt leveled a glare onto the younger witch, irritated by his thoughtlessness, - Because we really don't want _the_ Merlin to find himself unconscious in the middle of unknown forest where some beast or evil wizard could kill him? Now _that_ would mess up the timeline, don't you think?"

Chris smiled sheepishly:

"Yeah, you're probably right."

His gaze suddenly turned thoughtful, something Wyatt has learnt to be wary about out of unfortunate experience.

"No matter what you're thinking, I'm not agreeing to this."

Chris just blinked innocently at him.

"I haven't said anything."

Wyatt nodded, grimly:

"No, you haven't. I just wish it would remain so."

Chris ignored the comment, his body leaning slightly forward in a conspiratorial way, eyes alight with a brilliant idea he suddenly had.

Well, at least _he_ thought it was brilliant.

"Look, if the spell _did_ send him here, it was supposed to mean something, wasn't it?"

Wyatt watched him, resigned, exasperated:

"No, it wasn't. You just phrased your request too vaguely."

But Chris merely shook his head impatiently, unwilling to give in:

"No, look!.. After all, it was Merlin who crafted the Excalibur, wasn't it?"

"It was, or so the legend says. So what?"

Chris eyed him disbelievingly, pityingly and tolerantly, like one would eye a child who had asked why the sky was blue and why the demons were evil. Wyatt glared, annoyed, waiting for his brother to just finish with whatever the crazy idea he had this time.

"So he's supposed to know how to find it," – Chris explained, slowly, patiently.

Wyatt sighed, sounding as exhausted as if the whole weight of the world lay on his shoulders, crushing him into the ground.

"Firstly. Look at him, properly… does it seem like he has already gained enough strength and experience to create the most powerful sword the history has ever known?"

Chris appeared doubtful for a moment, then waved his hand, stubborn.

"Age doesn't mean anything. Look at us, for example."

'Yeah, look at us, getting ourselves in every trouble possible and having no control of our powers whatsoever', - Wyatt thought, sarcastically, but refrained from saying this particular idea aloud.

"Secondly. You do understand what changes the timeline will suffer if he finds out what will happen… (happened?) in his future, don't you?"

"Well, we won't tell him anything! Besides, you were going to give him an amnesia potion anyway, so that shouldn't be a problem!"

"And thirdly. What if the demons find out? What if _Mom_ finds out?"

Chris gulped nervously.

"She won't. We just have to finish it before she comes back."

"Yeah, right, - Wyatt gave him a dark look. – We're not doing this, Chris."

For several moments the younger Halliwell seemed to be about to yield, lowering his eyes, but…

"What do you think Mom will do if she finds out about Excalibur?"

Out of the corner of his vision Chris watched his elder brother turn several shades paler. There was a moment of indecision, then a firm:

"I'm in."

---

The new Oracle opened her eyes, smiling. Who would have thought that after so many years of being scattered, defeated and intimidated the demons would have another chance?

And from the Chosen One, no less, inferno burn his insides out.

Now, she only had to wait for an opening. And then they would strike.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I have been busy lately, but I'll do my best to update at least once a week, most likely on Fridays. Hope you guys are enjoying the story.**

**Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. I also generally check out my stories for grammar and spelling mistakes, but if you find one please point it out.**

Merlin was walking across the forest, the sound of his long strides slightly concealed by thick foliage on the ground, but still making enough noise to grasp attention of whoever or whatever was nearby.

Gaius had sent him to gather some herbs he needed, consciously giving him a chance to get away from the fuss of Camelot for a while, and he'd jumped at the opportunity to escape the mounting tension there for at least a couple of hours.

Once in a while, it wasn't Arthur who grated on his nerves with his constant biting, if friendly, insults, ridiculous assignments and overall childishness in what he had for breakfast and what he wanted to wear. Arthur was, ironically, a bright spot in the gloomy overpowering darkness.

It was Uther.

After Kilgarra's attack the king has become even more paranoid, if possible, about magic, and there was only so much a wizard could take before wishing to dash out of the door instead of listening to his everyday speeches. He talked about eradicating of magic, about killing off all the sorcerers because they were evil, about how he had had enough and how Camelot would be so better off without the damned witchcraft…

The usual stuff.

Ironically, though, he considered both Gaius and Merlin his closest and most faithful allies in this war. It wasn't too bad, actually.

The bad part was that as loyal and faithful allies they both found themselves at the receiving end of the king's solemn oaths more often than anyone. It was getting annoying. It was funny in a way, too.

But Merlin needed a break.

In his haste, however, happy to eventually get away and enjoying the calmness surrounding him, he didn't pay much attention to where he was going.

He now stared, ruefully, at the familiar tree he had obviously passed before.

The hunter skills Arthur has been trying so hard to drum into his head included, among everything else, the ability to recognize your surroundings and easily be able to find your way about.

Well, at least he mastered the first part. He did recognize that tree.

Too bad the second lesson was too much for him already.

Merlin really, really hated hunting.

Sighing, mumbling his thoughts aloud quietly so that at least one human voice could be heard in the savage forest, he went on. Having no other choice, as a matter of fact.

He pushed aside a momentary weird feeling of being pulled somewhere and just strode on.

The feeling wasn't so willing to let go of him, however, and the next thing he knew, he wasn't in the forest any longer.

He probably hasn't been there for some time already, because the realization descended on him gradually, as if awakening from a vivid dream in the morning. At first, you still think you are there, and it takes you several moments to come fully to awareness and realize that you are lying in your bed and it has only been in your head.

Merlin froze in place for an instant, startled, and looked around, warily, only to stop his gaze at two pairs of widely-opened eyes, watching him in identical disbelief and horror. The two boys, probably the same age as himself, and dressed in weird clothes.

"Who are you?' – he asked, understandably suspicious, but his inquisitive nature couldn't stay hidden away, so he was also curious.

They just stared at him, mutely, and he got the distinct impression they didn't even comprehend his question.

But then the dark-haired one turned sharply to another boy and yelled out:

"What have you done?!.."

They began yelling at each other, and he used these moments to glance briefly at the room he was in. Potions, probably magic ones, lit candles, the book with an odd symbol on it… The room obviously belonged to a sorcerer.

Suddenly excited, impatient to explore the rest of the house, he jogged to the door, forgetting all about being prudent and cautious and ignoring the quarreling youths, even as one of them shouted for him to stop.

Something warm, furry and alive darted from under his feet, but wasn't quick enough to dodge, and he was suddenly rolling, less than gracefully, down the stairs.

One of the steps rushed to meet his forehead, and he knew no more.

(---)

The first thing Merlin was aware of was that his head hurt. He groaned, bringing his hand to touch his forehead, and stilled immediately, sensing the unfamiliar texture beneath his fingers. It was similar to fabric, he supposed, but in some funny way was glued to his skin.

The memories flooded his head, and he opened his eyes groggily to find a pair of green ones staring at him nervously and somewhat guiltily.

"What is this thing?" – he asked instead of a greeting, pointing to the cloth. _Very bright of you, Merlin._

The green eyes simply blinked at him, and the boy they belonged to answered, sounding surprised and a tiny bit cautious:

"It's a plaster."

Merlin watched him expectantly for a second, waiting for a more detailed explanation, but it never came, so he just said:

"Right. Is it magic?"

The boy blinked again:

"No."

More silence came. The guy coughed uneasily, then held out a palm with a little white round thing on it, along with a transparent cup full of water.

"Here, drink this… it's for your headache."

When Merlin only eyed the thing and the cup warily, the boy impatiently frowned at him.

"Come on, if we wanted to we could have done anything to you while you were knocked out!"

Merlin frowned back. The boy sent him a look, then sighed and put the cup and the unknown thing down.

"What do you want from me?" – Merlin asked, not nearly as frightened and troubled as he should have been, but still reasonably cautious.

Another boy entered the room, standing beside the first one, who didn't favour him with even a flicker of his attention.

"We need your help," - the green-eyed one confessed.

(---)

Merlin honestly thought his head was going to explode thanks to the flood of information the two brothers – Wyatt and Chris? – have fed him. For some time he had no words to express what he thought about them and their plan in particular, but…

"You can't be _really_ expecting me to help you!"

The two paused in their speech to look at him, astonished, and he continued, fervently:

"Excalibur is meant for only one person to wield, and, last time I checked, you weren't Arthur! You can't really think that I'll merely give such a powerful weapon to a person I've never seen before, not to mention to the person who has all but abducted me from my home!"

"I resent that!" – Wyatt protested indignantly.

"It was an accident!" – Chris seconded.

Wyatt went on, looking anxious to get his point across:

"Besides, Excalibur has chosen me! I've pulled it out of the stone myself, and it would only let its heir do that!"

"Liar! Excalibur has been buried on the bottom of the lake, no stones involved, and, regardless of what you say, it would still allow an evil man take it and use its power… Uther is the proof of that!"

Chris shrugged, insistent:

"You've just probably not enchanted it to serve only its true heir yet. Our Excalibur recognizes none but one owner."

Merlin glared at them, his eyes narrowed:

"So you expect me to simply believe it and help you find it? What if it has been lost for centuries already, and you are villains who want to use it to your advantage and are merely trying to trick me?.."

(---)

Chris was getting more and more exasperated. It was proving to be much harder than he had thought.

For a guy torn out of his timeline Merlin seemed oddly calm and accepted the fact that he was in the future with a surprising ease.

However, it turned out to be next to impossible to persuade the sorcerer that they weren't going to abuse Excalibur's power. Chris has run out of arguments already, and so, apparently, has Wyatt.

The gift from the magic beings from yesterday, a white winged cat that Chris quickly became friends with, entered the room, graceful and dignified, to jump lightly onto the witch's lap. He rubbed the soft ear absently, absorbed by his thoughts.

What should they do now?


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I apologize for the short chapter. The studies have been killing me lately^-^. But I'm back and will hopefully be able to update next week, too.**

**Now, on with the story. Enjoy!**

Merlin stared, awed, at the white pure being that came through the door to leap, companionably and matter-of-factly, onto Chris's lap. The memory of the heated argument he was having was wiped off his mind quickly and effectively, and he didn't know what to say.

He had only seen the creature once, in one of Gaius's books that contained knowledge of the magic beings. They were extremely rare and never resided with humans, preferring the company of the elves instead. Unlike the unicorns, who could sometimes, if rarely, be found by people in forests, these beings were extremely wary. Graceful, fast and silent by nature, they easily avoided the undesirable encounters. The only reason sorcerers even knew they existed at all was because they sometimes favoured the druids with their presence. The only other thing known about them was that they were gifted with exceptional spiritual awareness, being able to see through the very aura.

Merlin didn't remember the being's name, if there even was any in the book.

"Where did you find her?" – he managed, breathlessly, in a moment of oblivion pointing a finger at her and then quickly withdrawing it, ashamed of his own gesture of disrespect.

The brothers blinked simultaneously, following his hand with stares until they saw what he meant by the question.

"This cat? The elves gave it to me as a present, - Wyatt answered, shrugging his shoulders dismissively. – I'm twenty-one now, so they probably wanted to gift me with something special," – there was a barely noticeable hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Merlin shook his head, his gaze firmly fixed on the cat. She stared back, curious, her intelligent blue-green eyes keeping his gaze firmly but gently. Her small white wings trembled slightly in concentration, then she broke the contact, purring and rubbing her head affectionately against Chris's hand. The sorcerer couldn't believe they referred to it simply as 'cat'. Such a short, unfitting name.

"Do you even know what she is? – Merlin wondered, hostility in his voice completely gone. – These are beings of pure white magic, like the unicorns. They generally don't have much love for humans. If they favour you, there must be something special about you then."

Wyatt rolled his eyes, unable to contain his frustration:

"We _are_ special. Have you even been listening for the last half an hour?"

Merlin just smiled a warm, open, sincere smile, and a small bright golden sunshine lit the room.

"I will help you."

(---)

The translucent crystal glittered, reflecting the sunlight, moving swiftly in regular circles, sliding just a couple millimeters above the map, not touching the paper.

Chris and Wyatt were sitting in front of the map, on the opposite side of Merlin, following the movement of the crystal intently. The sorcerer was pretty good at this for a person who had never done something similar before.

"So, - he began conversationally, - What happened to Camelot?"

The question was sudden, if expected, but Chris's reaction immediate, probably engraved in his subconsciousness and genes already:

"Sorry, can't tell you. Future consequences and so on."

Merlin shrugged, not distracted from his task.

"You would probably wipe off my memory anyway. No, don't look at me like this… You didn't really think I wouldn't guess it, did you?"

Now that he had a reason to trust them, he was surprisingly calm, composed and concentrated, obviously not extremely bothered by the fact that he was torn out from his own reality. And it really struck them as something completely opposite to the first impression they had when they saw him.

"You didn't look particularly intelligent when you appeared here, you know, - Chris said, and received a sharp elbow into his ribs for the rudeness. He rubbed the sore spot and continued, unabashed. – Fell down the stairs and everything."

"I tripped, - Merlin said, as if it explained everything. Then, after a pause, added: - Over her."

The white cat arched her back and yawned, settling back innocently and contentedly to doze off on the pillows.

"I hope she isn't hurt," - Merlin added somewhat guiltily.

Wyatt just stared disbelievingly at him:

"You are such a girl."

Merlin gave him a strange look, but didn't rise to the bait and said nothing. Wyatt was only left to guess what the look meant.

"Are you sure this will work?" – Merlin asked, casting his eyes down on the crystal.

Both Wyatt and Chris nodded confidently.

"Excalibur is protected by ancient magic, - Chris said. – This magic we can't defy. It wouldn't let anyone who's searching for the sword with our magic find it… However, you are different. Not only you possess the long lost sorcery of the Old Religion, the one that sealed it in the first place, you are also the one who created the sword. If you can't find it, no one can. But you can. You are Merlin, after all."

Merlin frowned slightly:

"Why was the sorcery of the Old Religion lost?"

Chris mentally slapped himself. Wyatt rewarded him with a glare that implied he wanted to physically slap him, but refrained.

'_Because Camelot fell. My tongue, my enemy.'_

"Uh, I can't tell you. Sorry."

"You are going to wipe off my memory anyway. So _please_ do."

Chris shuddered at the way 'please' was pronounced. Not outwardly threateningly, but firmly and sternly, making it clear that the sorcerer wouldn't back down. And would probably do whatever it takes to find out. Although this one was, most likely, the witch's imagination only…

At least he wanted to believe it.

The genetic memory kicked in again, and Chris said:

"We can't risk it. Too much is at stake. _You_ of all people should realize it. It's not like you can change it anyway, and if you do, it will leave the timeline in pieces, possibly creating the reality so twisted that your worst nightmare couldn't be even compared to it. And you know this. So leave it. Please."

In a strained silence that followed Wyatt's expression was clearly saying: 'It was your idea to leave him here in the first place, you idiot. Aren't you being _slightly_ hypocritical?'

Chris glared.

The crystal suddenly fell, as if pulled by a the magnetic power, to point onto the place where the United Kingdom was.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I am so, so sorry. My computer decided it was an excellent time to stop switching on, and was on a strike for the last week or two**** …**** so I couldn't even type this up ****-****. **

**Thanks to those who put up with me and even left a review ****^-^****. You guys really make my day. **

**I apologize in advance if this chapter seems rushed through, which it probably is. I will most likely re-edit it later, but for now I just wanted people to know that I'm not dead yet.**

**I wonder if anyone guessed what is about to come next****…**** I couldn't just let the boys easily find the sword, could I? ;****) ****Their lives can never be that simple.**

**Now, on with the story!**

The atmosphere was quite tense as they checked the detailed map of the United Kingdom the same way again. They had to find a precise point where to teleport, after all, in order to not startle some of the locals with the sudden appearance of three guys in the blue light and to shorten the time the search would take. Merlin asked about the contemporary magic, got a few terse answers, out of which he concluded that it was pretty much the same in general, and then was silent again, methodically exploring the map with the crystal.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait for a long time.

"So, it's night now in England, isn't it?" – Chris asked, sounding more like thinking aloud rather than asking an actual question. His jacket travelled through the air in his direction, and he threw it casually over his shoulders, not actually putting his arms through the sleeves yet.

Merlin frowned at him, confused, slightly irked that it was yet another thing that he didn't understand.

"Time difference, - Wyatt explained shortly. – Happens on round planets."

Merlin resisted the urge to shake his head. If anything, the explanation left him even more baffled than before. Wyatt grabbed his jacket too and smiled slightly, a tiny condescending note barely noticeable in it.

"I'll explain you later, I promise."

Merlin only sighed mentally. Here he was, treated like he was a child, by someone who was barely older than him. The fact that Merlin, by the looks of things, was an established celebrity here, made the situation no better and probably even more unpleasant, since even his status was not enough to affect the way these two acted.

In a funny way, there was something familiar and oddly endearing about it, too; it was both irritating and comforting. It probably had to do with the fact that despite his constant struggle and fierce desire to be accepted and acknowledged back at Camelot, Merlin was pretty used to be treated like he was a nuisance at home – simply because he didn't make a particularly powerful and intimidating impression, and he knew it.

But there was something else in there, something he didn't feel like considering right now because he wanted to do it in a calmer place and time, when he'd be alone and not rushed...

That, only if he managed to keep his memory intact by that point.

Another mental sigh, and then he experienced the most unusual feeling he had ever before, and his head spun and his stomach sank and knees buckled as soon as his feet touched the ground.

(---)

Wyatt and Chris instinctively reached out to steady the swaying sorcerer who stood between the two of them.

"Wow," – was the only thing he said, breathless, his long thin fingers curling into Chris's jacket as he tried to regain his balance.

Chris smiled apologetically:

"Sorry. We tend to forget to warn people about it… It's always like that the first time. It will be better."

If Chris was really honest with himself, he'd probably have to face the fact that he _was_ quite sloppy with the details in his plans. The only thing that made him feel slightly better was that Wyatt, great, powerful and invincible, seemed to have the same fault about his own schemes, and that his strength and, consequently, overconfidence made it even worse and more frequent.

But for Chris, this was no excuse, considering that he had nothing to make up for the possible defects in his otherwise well-thought schemes, and the mistakes could possibly result in an utter failure and thus serious consequences.

If Wyatt could hear his thoughts, he'd probably make a remark about his subtle inferiority complex or something.

It was a good thing that empathy wasn't one of his numerous cool abilities.

Chris mentally pinched the bridge of his nose. _Here we go again_. He didn't need it right now.

Merlin shook their hands off.

"It's fine, I guess. It's just that… it was quite a _breathtaking_ experience."

"Is it supposed to be so misty here?" – Wyatt wondered aloud, eyeing the impenetrable curtain of grayish milk that surrounded them, so close it was almost tangible.

"Well, it is England, isn't it?" – Chris commented, dryly.

Wyatt chose to ignore the comment.

"Something is not right here," – he almost whispered, insistently, his quiet voice sounding even softer, as if absorbed by the mist.

Chris rolled his eyed:

"Yeah, and you just _had_ to say it. Can't you pretend everything's okay, just once? Honestly, you…"

Wyatt quickly silenced him with a short 'Shh" that sounded almost vicious.

Ignoring the two of them, as if led by some unseen power – which was probably the case, - Merlin moved forward, his by no means quiet steps silenced by the slightly wet ground and a thick cloud of dirty white.

Chris and Wyatt exchanged short glances before following.

The world around them seemed almost surreal, vague shadows of trees appearing out of nowhere and disappearing back into nowhere before they could get a chance to even distinguish them properly. Sometimes the outlines of the supposed-to be trees didn't resemble trees at all, but pausing and having a look would most surely mean getting lost, since Merlin most likely wasn't about to stop. They followed him, not saying a word as if afraid to be heard, though the humid heavy silence unnerved them. For some reason losing their way in this place made them feel very uneasy, despite their ability to teleport away any second they wished, so their eyes bore into the sorcerer's back with desperate intensity.

At some point, Chris could have sworn that the cloud around them was luminous.

'Damn Wyatt and his premonitions', - he thought fervently.

Then an indistinct shadow emerged out of the mist, slowly coming into focus to become a spreading tree of an unknown origin – too dark to see which exactly it was. It was wide and very old, and about a third of its branches seemed dead, judging by the absence of leaves and their overall sharp, stiff, hardened form.

There was a dark hollow about a man's height in the trunk, and Merlin entered without hesitation. Wyatt and Chris weren't far behind, and for some reason it didn't cross their mind that there shouldn't be enough space for three people to fit into the trunk.

But somehow, the hollow turned out to be spacious in the inside, though it shouldn't have been physically possible.

There was a faint glowing light that seemed to come out of nowhere in particular.

Merlin stood unmoving, inhumanly still, in front of a big transparent crystal of bluish glass.

Puzzled, Chris took a closer look. The glass was unclear and hazy and it his eyed needed some time to focus properly, but when they did, he gasped in shock, Merlin's reaction suddenly painfully clear.

Near him, he heard a choked 'O My God".

Encased in translucent crystal, appearing to be deeply asleep, there was an older, more tired, bordering on exhausted, emaciated version of the boy they had accidentally called from the past.


End file.
